What We Know Mac is Thinking
by flyboyfan
Summary: We can see how Mac behaves on the outside, but we all know what she's really thinking... (CHAPTER 4!)
1. Halston

This is my first fanfic - reviews, please - I have more in the works, tell me if I should go on...  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, I just like to make Harm do hot things   
  
* * *  
  
0736 LOCAL  
  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA  
  
TUESDAY  
  
I walk into my office past Harm. ::sigh:: He smells like Halston today. That fits him so well... It's masculine, dark, and attractive. Perhaps that's why it fits him... Since when do I think like this?  
  
He can't read my thoughts, can he? I hope not, he's coming over here.  
  
"Good morning, Mac."  
  
I smile and laugh nervously. "If that's what it is." How charming.  
  
"Oh, it will be," he says. Could he be more sexy today? "I found some info on the Trucan case."  
  
"Mmm, the Trucan case... Is it bad?" I ask timidly. It's too early, the caffeine hasn't kicked in yet. Maybe if I woke up to the smell of that Halston - What the hell? I gotta concentrate.  
  
"It is bad," he says sarcastically. "Turns out the same thing happened two years ago and he was found guilty. /i he's had a history of violent behavior. It'll all go to pattern. Good thing you're prosecuting."  
  
I smile a relieved one. "I was afraid for a minute that you'd made my case impossilble to win." Like it would've been his fault.  
  
"Ah, no, there's no case too impossible for you." He smiles big. Was that a compliment or a joke? I can never tell with that intoxicating, hella distracting smile... What? What am I thinking?  
  
He wears the same cocky grin as he turns to leave my office. I hope no one can see me. I watch dreamily as he walks off. God, his hips look good in those summer whites... What the hell is wrong with me today? I mean, geez, I like Harm, but not like that... right? I mean /b. I can't like him that way. Our careers at JAG wouldn't permit it. And a Navy and Marine relationship - it simply doesn't happen.  
  
Relationship? I shake my head out of it. I need caf/i... I get up and head toward the break room, trying hard to avoid glancing at or a glance from Harm.  
  
As I near Harriet's desk, she says, "Are you alright, Colonel?"  
  
I give her a half-assed smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just need coffee." I wave my hand toward the break room. I smile again and begin to walk away. But I swear I hear Harriet say "Halston."  
  
I turn quickly and say 'what' in a very alarmed tone. Her eyes widen, but she replies, "I asked how your trip to Houston was." Oh. Houston. She gives me a strange look.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harriet, I'm hearing things today. It was alright. I just hope I have enough info to back up the Andover case now."  
  
"Well, good luck with that today, ma'am."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
I sigh. I'm beginning to wonder what my comfort food is and if it's in a cabinet nearby. I hope Harm hasn't taken all the -   
  
::sigh:: It's going to be a long day.  
  
No, it's going to be a long week. 


	2. Old Spice Again

Just some notes... I'm not totally sure exactly how everything is carried out in court, so if I do something wrong, don't send me death threats. And I know that my court-martial situation isn't that great and is very cheesy, but bear with me, please. And, since he flies, Richards would actually be an Airman, but for the sake of this story, he is a Seaman.  
  
PLEASE REVIEW(and a big thanks to those of you who have) ... should I continue? Criticism/suggestions are very welcome.   
  
* * *  
  
0939 LOCAL  
  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA  
  
WEDNESDAY  
  
What a crime. I can't believe I have to go up against this man in court today. Opposing him while he smells like Old Spice should be illegal. He's a distraction.  
  
He seems like an Old Spice guy. Original, but still amazingly seductive. I s'pose he needed the pep for the court-martial today.  
  
He must wear the same two colognes. I guess they go every other day - he wore Old Spice Monday, as well. Funny, I've never noticed before this week.   
  
'Counselor...' Counselor? What?  
  
"Counselor!"  
  
"Yes?" I snap to. Harm had been trying to get my attention.   
  
"We're going to court." He gives me a big cheesy smirk.  
  
I purse my lips at his comment. "Mm-hm," I voice derisively. I get up and follow Lieutenant Roberts.  
  
The seating is as usual - from right to left, Bud, me, Harm, his client, then whichever nugget lawyer they've seated as his second chair. It's always someone different. But Harm doesn't really use or need his co-counsel. He seems to not want to let anyone else do his work for him.  
  
* * *  
  
"The government calls Petty Officer Second Class Luis Entre," I say. I have to concentrate had to remember what this means. It means I get up and talk. I'm still sitting.  
  
Bud leans over. "Are you sure you don't want me to do it, ma'am?"  
  
I lean to him and say, "I'm sure I can figure it out." Bud smells like... baby powder. I start to get up. "I've been doing this for years, Lieutenant."  
  
"Yes ma'am, Colonel."  
  
I am standing. I brush the front of my coat flat. My mind is cleared and I am ready. I approach.   
  
"Petty Officer Entre... What is your opinion of Captain Moore?"  
  
"To tell the truth?" he asks quietly.  
  
"Please do."  
  
He pauses. This senior officer is right before him. I can see his hesitance.  
  
"Go on."  
  
"....Well, ma'am, not much."  
  
"And why is that, Petty Officer?"  
  
He glances back at the Captain nervously. "He's too... tough."  
  
With my poker face, I reply, "Well, you are in the military."  
  
"But the Captain takes everything too far. If I didn't ring the bell at the end of my watch the way he likes, he'd haul my six."  
  
"Is this theoretical, Petty Officer Entre?"  
  
"No, ma'am, it is not. It has happened."  
  
"Would you call him... nitpicky?"  
  
"I would call him nitpicky with a passion. If something is not done exactly as he says, he will get you in trouble. With him, there are only two ways to do something: his way, and the wrong way. There aren't any creative solutions. Just on his terms."  
  
I am reminded of Harm's presence by a small, hardly audible sniffle. I would spaz out, but my questions are through, thank God...  
  
"Thanks you, Petty Officer. Your witness."  
  
I massage my temple and stare through the floor as I head to my seat.  
  
Harm walks slowly but surely to the stand. He's smiling - I can tell, it's at the prosecution. Why?  
  
"Petty Officer Entre, in the military, isn't there really only one way to do something?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"The way your OIC says, correct?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"What did you mean earlier by 'creative solutions'?"  
  
"I meant, better ways to do something. Ways that waste less material or manpower or time. Captain Moore doesn't even consider other possibilities."  
  
Harm must have found this to be a good answer. He went on to different questions. "Petty Officer, what do other men and women that serve under the Captain think of him?"  
  
"I'm not positively sure, sir."  
  
"You never hear them mention him?"  
  
"...Sometimes, I suppose..."  
  
"Is it usually positive or negative?"  
  
The boy is still unsure of how to answer while this Captain is in front of him. " Well, they say he does his job."  
  
"Thank you, Petty Officer." He turns to sit down.  
  
But Entre keeps talking. "They do add that he tends to do things the hard way."  
  
Harm turns and repeats, "Thank you."  
  
"They say he could tone down his attitude, that the roughness is a bit much, even for a sailor."  
  
"Thank you, Petty Officer," Harm says loudly. The witness finally catches the drift and shuts his mouth.  
  
* * *  
  
Harm stands up. "The defense calls Seaman Harris Richards." He goes past me to approach his character witness. God, he's so sexy today...  
  
Bud elbows me. He must have noticed my faraway stare (luckily not directed at Harm).  
  
"Is there a problem, Colonel?" asks the judge, Commander Carnaghan. My head nearly hits the ceiling, she startles me so badly. Harm's back is to me, but I just know he's laughing.  
  
"No, ma'am. I apologize."  
  
She raises an eyebrow at me. "May we proceed?"  
  
I nod a very embarrassed yes. All this had to happen in front of a judge, Harm, his client, my co-counsel, the members, and everyone else here. It just had to. It's all the fault of that damn Harmon Rabb. Damn that man.  
  
"Seaman Richards," he says, "what is in the Captain's past?"  
  
The witness and I both wrinkle our brows in confusion. "I don't know," he says.  
  
"What do others under his command say about his past?"  
  
As the Seaman is trying to figure out how to answer, Bud whispers, "Object, Colonel, it's just irrelevant scuttlebutt."  
  
"Objection, s-, it would be hearsay, and what is the relevance of these questions?" I almost objected on grounds of scuttlebutt.  
  
"Yes, Commander," says Carnaghan, "where is this going?"  
  
"Well, your honor, sometimes the scuttlebutt surrounding a person is a good characterization of how others view them." The bastard. He looked me in the eye as he said scuttlebutt.  
  
"But rumors about his past?" I say.  
  
"Commander, I still can't see how they're related. Sustained."  
  
For less than an attosecond, I see his nose wrinkle. He's cute when he's mad. Aack... those thoughts have got to stop.  
  
"Seaman, what is your relationship with the Captain?"  
  
"Uh, he's my CAG, sir."   
  
"How do you think your CAG does at his job?"  
  
"I believe he performs it excellently."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. Whatever problem we have, he's always got the best way to fix it. Even under pressure."  
  
Harm smiles. "Your witness."  
  
I approah. "Seaman..." I pause.  
  
"Just Richards, please," he says through a smile.   
  
"May I ask why?"  
  
"Just not Seaman." He smiles at me. I realize that he thinks of his rate the way a nine-year-old would.  
  
"Alright, may I say..." I look up at the judge. She nods her eyes. "...Grow up, Squid."  
  
I feel the room smile. They're mine again, Rabb.  
  
The Seaman is surprised at my comment and shuts up out of bewilderment rather than to obey me.  
  
I continue. "Isn't it true that you are one of the Captain's favorites?"  
  
He reddens. "I guess so..." he says with a smile.  
  
"That's like a teacher's pet, right?"  
  
He frowns. "I suppose."  
  
"Now, when a flyboy knows he's a favorite, don't you think he becomes blind to the actions of the CO out of respect, no matter how he really acts? You don't know how he really is, do you? You just return the favor by speaking good of him -"  
  
"Objection, your honor, badgering the witness."  
  
"Withdrawn. The government has no questions for this witness." I sit down. Bud wonders aloud what that was all about. I think I hear Harm say, "Grow up, Gyrene."  
  
He didn't have to get me back for the Squid comment - oh... I said flyboy, and he thinks I meant that it goes for him, too. I don't know, maybe it does go for him, if he feels it should...  
  
I lean to Bud. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that was about, either. I've been flustered today. It'll pass. I'm sorry."  
  
* * *  
  
Bud shoots out of his chair. "Your honor, may I have a word with my counsel?!" [Can you tell that I, as the author, don't know what's going on?]  
  
"Please do, Lieutenant!" says Commander Carnassial.  
  
I go to stand by Bud. "Are you defending? You are to prosecute, Colonel," he says quietly, but forcefully.  
  
"I know, Lieutenant, I'm sorry -"  
  
"With all due respect, Ma'am, sit down."  
  
I exhale heavily. "Your honor, the prosecution rests."  
  
Harm isn't even smiling anymore, let alone hiding laughs. I think he believes I've lost my mind literally. I seriously think he thinks I'm mentally or emotionally sick.  
  
And I am.  
  
And it's his fault.  
  
* * *  
  
::sigh:: There's a tap at my door. Dammit! It's Harm. I knew he'd come by today to talk to me about my near breakdown in court today. I'm predicting.  
  
"Come on in, Harm."  
  
He comes in and - ah! - he closes the door. It's personal.  
  
"Mac - "  
  
- survey says -   
  
"Are you alright today?"  
  
Cha-ching!  
  
Uh-oh. But now he expects me to talk about it.  
  
I make a puppy dog face. "...No..."  
  
"Why? What's going on?" He seems to genuinely care, like he's not just asking to be nice.  
  
I look him in the eyes, his beautiful blue- aack... "I really don't know. I have been completely out of it all week. I bet I don't even know the time."  
  
His eyes widen in awe. "Really?" I nod. "Try it." He holds up his wrist and stars at his watch, waiting for my guess.  
  
I exhale in deep thought. "1232?"  
  
"Gosh, Mac, you're thirteen minutes off."  
  
"Am I really?"  
  
"Yes, I swear." He lends me his wrist. Sure enough. 1219.  
  
He seems troubled now, as well.   
  
"Well, have you had lunch yet?"  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Maybe that's a problem. I was just going to leave. Come with me." He stands up.   
  
I know what the problem is -  
  
"Come on."  
  
- it's that you're so sexy - WHOA, I think. I slap my forehead. At this, he takes some initiative. He grabs my wrist and drags me from my office to feed me.  
  
As I follow him around and through the bullpen, I see Harriet staring at us blankly.  
  
Dear god, that girl is getting ideas... 


	3. A Trip

A/N: Again, I suck at coming up with situations, please forgive me. Please review. Criticism/suggestions are welcome, as well.  
  
Someone mentioned that ch.2 left off as they were heading off to lunch, and that they would like to know what happened then (which I totally didn't even think about and I may go back and fix). I know there are a lot of open holes, but it is meant to be that way. Mac is utterly in love and the story is meant to be confusing. This person also requested to be filled in about why they had to be undercover... Well, I don't have what you call creativity, so I kind of left it there, hoping it could be avoided. But now I see that it can't. If anyone has any suggestions, I would love them very much.   
  
Disclaimer again: I own none of these characters, I just like to make Harm do hot things ('it wouldn't be prudent at this juncture' is from SNL, in case anyone caught that, that's not mine, either)  
  
***  
  
1027 LOCAL  
  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA  
  
THURSDAY  
  
Now I think he chooses the day's cologne at random. Curve for Men today. It's nice for him - a bit sweet, more blended and rounded than yesterday's Spice. It's a calm scent. [A/N: May I just say, damn, Harmon smells good...]  
  
I breathe in as I walk past him. Oh, does he know just how attractive he is? I mean, he must. Everywhere he goes, women are always looking at him.  
  
But I've just now realized it's never me. Until this week. But is has to stop sometime. It has to.  
  
I hope this is all out of my system by next Monday. Tomorrow would be good, too. But I can't handle another week of this. I've been so restless. I can't sleep. I can't concentrate. And, like yesterday, my internal clock has been so out of sync that I can't even count seconds accurately.   
  
I am sitting at my computer. For some reason, I can't remember how to work it. Oh yeah... Right. So.  
  
I have an e-mail. Uh oh. It requires a reply. ::sigh:: Now I have to type, as well.  
  
I sit behind the keyboard for a while, contemplating how to answer. Now I am typing. If I were speaking the way I am typing now, I would sound drunk as all get out. I have to hunt and peck the keys this morning.   
  
This is really getting old.  
  
Almost as soon as I hit 'send', Tiner comes in, content and freaking peppy as always. "The Admiral would like to see you in his office, Ma'am."  
  
"Thank you, Tiner." He smiles, turns, and leaves. How does he do it? Exactly how much caffeine does this boy consume every day? Or is it natural? Lucky dog...  
  
As I think this, I leave my office to weave through people and desks, not noticing that I've passed Harm until I get a whiff of his cologne. I nearly pass out, but I retain my cool head. 'It wouldn't be prudent at this juncture.'  
  
I'm glad as I near the Admiral's open door. "Come in, Colonel," he says in his sharp, early morning tone. "Close the hatch behind you."  
  
Sturgis is already inside. What is this about, I wonder?  
  
"Commander Turner, Colonel, you two are going undercover. Plane leaves at noon."  
  
Good! I finally will get a chance to escape Harm. But then again, I almost wish it was Harm going instead of Sturgis...  
  
Be careful what you wish for. "But Admiral, may I request a day of leave tomorrow?" Sturgis asks. Uh oh. Guess who'll replace -  
  
"No, Commander, did you hear me? You're going undercover and leaving today."  
  
Yes!  
  
"But it's for a funeral, Sir."  
  
Damn!  
  
"Well, that's a fact I wasn't aware of. I'm sorry Sturgis, granted. I wish you would have brought this to my attention sooner..." he added, mumbling.  
  
"I'm sorry, Admiral, I will try to alert you sooner in the future. But I didn't find out about this until yesterday." What mumbo jumbo.  
  
"Alright, you're dismissed. Mac, don't run away just yet, I still need you." Was I trying to sneak aw-, did I seem like I was gonna, gosh, I wasn't even trying to leave, Admiral, don't jump the gun on me, gee...  
  
"Tiner!" he barks as Sturgis leaves. "Get Rabb in here, ASAP."  
  
"Aye, Sir."  
  
DAMMIT, now I have to be stuck on a plane next to this man for, what, hours?!  
  
At least we're not questioning witnesses today.   
  
I feel his aura enter and stand next to me. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see me.   
  
"Yes, Sir?" he asks.   
  
"Rabb, you'll be replacing Commander Turner. You and Mac are going undercover. Your plane leaves for Norfolk at twelve." Good. A short flight. But...  
  
"Admiral, isn't Norfolk's Harborfest this weekend?" I ask. It'll be swamped.  
  
"Yes it is, Colonel. That's why you're going. "  
  
Harm and I give each other quizzical looks.   
  
"You're undercover to look for a lost Petty Officer." He paused. "I can tell by the looks of confusion that you don't get it yet."  
  
"No we don't, Sir." Aww. Harmon answered for me.  
  
"A stowaway, almost." [I suck, I know, but I had to come up with something!]   
  
He continues. "You two will be undercover as married civilians. Be near the port at 1500 tomorrow, when the ships dock. The Marines there know to look for you - they'll give you any clearance you may need."  
  
"Uh, Sir, what exactly are we looking for?" I ask.  
  
"Anyone suspicious." In my head, I'm rolling my eyes. Well duh. I glance at Harm and he gives me a look that says he's thinking the same thing. "You'll be briefed with better details when you land," Chegwidden adds. "Go home now and pack."  
  
"How long will we be there, Sir?" Harm asks.  
  
"As long as it takes." We think about rolling our eyes again. "Dismissed."  
  
Our heels snap together simultaneously. "Aye aye, Sir," we say in unison. We both turn, but AJ calls me back.   
  
After Harm exits, he says, "Mac, are you alright with this? You seemed to have a bit of a... a slump yesterday, in court."  
  
Oh, man, he heard about that? "Yes, but I'll be fine." He narrows his eyes as if this alone will extract more information from me. Boy,it would take a lot more than that to tell you anything else about my thoughts.   
  
His eyes seem to get smaller. He can feel the wheels turning in my head, wanting to say more. But he knows I won't.  
  
He seems to sigh. "Alright." I think he says 'have it your way' under his breath.  
  
***  
  
1209 LOCAL  
  
A PLANE SOMEWHERE OVER VIRGINIA  
  
At least a D.C.-Norfolk flight isn't too terribly long.  
  
***  
  
Not as short as I thought, though.   
  
He's sitting right next to me! What an injustice! His leg is touching mine! I can't handle this... I could have told the Admiral that I couldn't do it, but what would I tell him? That this week alone I am in love with Commander Rabb and cannot carry out my duties because of this in spite of my military training?   
  
Actually, that's exactly what I should have told him.  
  
No, no, I could never tell Chegwidden something like that. And anyway, who would he send to replace me? Coates?   
  
At least we get to play married. I'll get to let out this week's weird feelings.  
  
***  
  
He seems to have been napping. "...Colonel..." he mumbles softly.  
  
"Hm?" I ask.   
  
He looks at me sleepily as though I began the conversation, not him. "Oh," he then says in realization. "I was just wondering why 'colonel' is pronounced the way it is." He closes his eyes to try to sleep again.  
  
"We adopted many of our military grades from the British," I say matter-of-factly. I glance at him to see if he's still even awake. He's actually listening intently. So I go on. "When they were creating their grades, they took the French spelling, c-o-l-o-n-e-l, but the Spanish pronunciation, c-o-r-o-n-e-l, and then messed up its pronunciation." Did I just say that, messed it up?  
  
He sits in thought a while. "Oh."  
  
Then, after a few more minutes, he says, "I wonder what time it is..." He is thinking out loud. "Can you tell yet, Mac?"  
  
Ah, I see what he's doing. At the beginning of the flight, I saw him slip his watch into his carry-on. On purpose, I can tell now. He wanted to know if I could do it yet, but didn't want to ask straight out. Sneaky. Well, I'm on to you.  
  
"It's 1220," I say with closed eyes.  
  
"I don't believe you," he says skeptically. I hear him claw through his bag for his watch. "...Oh... 1221... So you can tell time today?"  
  
"No, I still can't."  
  
"You can't?" He sounds confused. It's cute.  
  
"I just estimated that it had been twenty minutes since we took off."  
  
He pauses. "...Oh."  
  
"You could have done that," I add. Why do I keep talking?  
  
"No way, Mac. Telling time - you're magical about it."  
  
I know. I know, really.   
  
Did he just call me magical?  
  
***  
  
1625 LOCAL  
  
A HOTEL IN NORFOLK  
  
All of a sudden, my girlish moods have scurried away in fear of what is actually going on.  
  
We have a hotel room. A. Singular.  
  
At least there are two beds. JAG gave us that much.  
  
As soon as he opens the door, I practically pounce on a bed and lay spread-eagled all over it.   
  
"I need a shave," he says, thinking out loud again.  
  
I'm still laying on my back when he comes out of the bathroom seven point four two minutes later and smelling like... Halston. His signature scent.   
  
Great. I'll be freaking tipsy the rest of the day. I was practically giddy on Tuesday, and now again... Good. Just great.  
  
I hyperventilate unnoticeably for a minute or so. He's sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, reading or something weird like that.  
  
I can't stand this. I'm just gonna have to say it.  
  
"Halston?" I ask. I already feel better.  
  
He looks up smilingly. "How'd you know?"  
  
"Someone I used to date wore it all the time." That's how I know, right? I haven't been subconsciously sneaking into his apartment, have I? Sleep stalking, is that possible?  
  
Anyway, he smiles again and goes back to his reading.  
  
He's so irresistably attractive...  
  
I am forced to slap my own forehead again. He looks up without making a face. "Really, Mac, what's been up this week?" He's reminding me of a school counselor. "You seem so distracted, like you're in some other world." I am. It's the Macfantasy Alternate Universe. "And what happened in court yesterday? That never happens." It does now, pal.  
  
I sit up. "I'm not sure..." I answer, my voice completely lacking the sarcasm in my thoughts. He looks straight at me like I do know. "I haven't been drinking." That had to be ruled out. There has been a problem with that in the p-  
  
"I know that, I can tell it's not alcohol."  
  
Oh. Well.  
  
"Really, Mac, you can tell me."  
  
I am twelve again, talking to the boy in the front row who's never even seen me. That is the kind of nerve I have now, for some reason. ::sigh:: I know I can tell him. So I answer quietly and hesitantly, "Seriously..." He nods. "... I think it's you." But in my head I'm thinking I KNOW IT'S YOU YOU'VE BEEN FREAKING TAKING UP ALL MY THOUGHTS YOU'RE THE MOST ATTRACTIVE BEING ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH AND I WANNA JUMP ON YOUR BACK EVERY TIME YOU WALK BY TAKE ME NOW OR KILL ME QUICKLY.  
  
But that's all in my head.  
  
Dammit, Mac, always the underachiever when it comes to words. Especially words that are synonymous with - eugh - feelings.  
  
"Me?" he asks with a look of confusion that also happens to be very cute. "What am I doing?"  
  
"I don't know why" liar "but you've been affecting me so differently" drr are you blind "in the past few days... I don't know why." YES I DO YOU'RE SEXY AND I WANT YOU AND YOU WANT ME SO LET'S JUST DO IT AND GET IT OVER WITH.  
  
I shut my eyes tight to try to rid my mind of the evil words that have been plaguing my poor haunted head.  
  
When I open my eyes, Harm is staring at me with a strange look. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks cutely.  
  
Yeah, and if I am to be okay, get out of my face so I'm not breathing your very air.  
  
He sighs. "Let's go do something," he says in a very spur-of-of-the-moment manner.  
  
"Like what? There won't be much to do until tomorrow." Am I retarded? He just asked to go somewhere with me, and all I can say is that there's nothing. I'm such an optimist.  
  
"I don't know, just dinner."  
  
"Harm, it's 1647." Why do I keep talking? He checks his watch and smiles.  
  
"So it is."  
  
"We can't eat at 4:47 in the afternoon." Why do I continue? "I mean, I know it's almost five, but still..."   
  
"Mac, you knew the time."  
  
I pause. "I did?"  
  
"Are you feeling better?" he asks smilingly.  
  
I hesitate. "I guess I am." I don't really feel better, but at least internally I'm back on track again.  
  
Harm gets up. "Well, let's go."   
  
I wrinkle my forehead at him. Why'd I do that? Am I blind? I just keep digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole I can't crawl out of.  
  
Luckily, Harm has a ladder. He says mockingly, "Come on, honey." A ladder made of silk strands? He smiles big. My eyes widen. What? Then he points to the base of his left ring finger. Why is there a ring...?  
  
As soon as he sees I realize what it is, he digs through his bag and pulls out a velvet cube. He throws it at me. "You get two," he says.  
  
What?  
  
"A wedding band and an engagement ring. We're married, remember?"  
  
I stop to analyze the situation - Harmon Rabb, Jr. has just reminded me that I am married to him. What an odd occurrance.   
  
I take the two rings from the box and put them on.  
  
"I'll tell you what, if I were really married to you, I wouldn't forget."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I don't know," I answer quickly and loudly without looking up. That's the biggest problem with being in my condition - all my thoughts leave my mouth. It sucks.  
  
He laughs at my honesty. We both put our shoes back on and leave the hotel room, locking the door behind us.   
  
As we walk down the hall to the elevator, I nervously finger the foreign objects on the fourth appendage of my left hand. "Was it absolutely necessary for us to be undercover as a married couple?"  
  
"No, we didn't. That's just it. The Admiral probably thought it'd be funny if he forced us to pretend it."  
  
Prob'ly did. Sick twisted freak. "Oh... And I'll bet Sturgis was in on it, too."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"He was 'originally' assigned this, but he requested a day of leave tomorrow. The Admiral granted it to him."  
  
"So?"  
  
"If you asked to have the next day off when you had just been given an immediate assignment, Chegwidden would yell at you til he was purple. And all he did was mumble a little."  
  
"That is suspicious."  
  
We both sigh. Okay, so now what? 


	4. Undercover

Disclaimer: JAG isn't mine, I just like to make Harm do hot things  
  
I know it's kind of short, but hopefully it is filled with enough hilarity that it won't matter. I just finally got some ideas!  
  
* * *  
  
We've exited the hotel. That's a start.  
  
"Oh, you know what, we need to come up with names, too," he says.  
  
This is all beginning to feel like a giant game of pretend. "Alright."  
  
"I vote that we choose each other's names."  
  
Uh oh. "Why, do you have something strange in store for me?"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"Alright then, what?" I'm still a little afraid.  
  
"Stephanie."  
  
"Stephanie? Why?" I ask with a smile.  
  
"I don't know, I always thought..." He trails off.  
  
"Thought what, Harm?"  
  
"I thought it was a beautiful name."  
  
"Oh please!"  
  
"So what's my name?" he asks, trying to escape the subject. I'll let him get away this once.  
  
I think a bit. "Wyatt."  
  
"Are you serious? Wyatt - what?!"  
  
I backhand him in the chest. "Wyatt is a very respectable name! It was the name of George Strait's character in his movie!"  
  
"Give me a break!"  
  
"Hey, this was your idea! You picked mine, I picked yours, the end."  
  
"Our last name should be Irish."  
  
"O'Leary."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
Wow. That was fairly easy.   
  
"Do you know any good places around here, Mac?"  
  
"You've probably spent more time here than I have, sailor."  
  
"Don't start that 'sailor' stuff with me, Marine."  
  
I see how it is. "Squid."  
  
"Jarhead."  
  
"Deck ape."  
  
"Gyrene."  
  
"Knuckledragger."  
  
"...Jarhead," he says in a feeble attempt to outdo me.  
  
"Swabby."  
  
Gosh, there are far too many names for Navy men.  
  
"But you know what, Mac, those last few have to be disqualified."  
  
Bull. "Why is that? Because you're a sore loser?"  
  
"No, because your last ones only pertain to boatswain's mates and deck crew."  
  
Wh-... Is he serious?  
  
"I am totally serious."  
  
Damn. Well, if that's how he's gonna play...  
  
"Nugget."  
  
"Ouch, Mac! Rookie pilot? A little below the belt, there!"  
  
Hm, I can only imagine what else is below that bel- WHOA now, red light, Colonel! Snap to, suck it up, and whatever else those overrated DI's scream into your earlobes, I hafta motivate my ass away from that sort of stuff if I am to work my way back up to even temporary sanity.  
  
I make no sense.  
  
"So what do you think?"  
  
Uh oh. While I was contemplating his belt he must have mentioned somewhere to go. I should learn to listen.  
  
"Uh... sure."  
  
"Mac?" he asks in a tone that suggests I need my head examined.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
He gives me a strange look. Oh God - was that not the right answer? He probably wasn't even talking about a restaurant.  
  
"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Alright. Acceptance is the first step to recovery."  
  
Is he sure? Doesn't denial or anger come before you can accept it? I'm not sure. Neither of us would be an expert on that, though.  
  
* * *  
  
So after an excruciatingly painful dinner to sit through without jumping Harm, we've found our way into a bar. How did that happen? And he's ordered me a non-alcoholic pina colada. Why the hell would he do either of those things to me? Non-alcoholic? Pina colada, now really.  
  
We are sitting at the bar. It's pretty busy for it being early Thursday evening. I'm actually having a good time. I can act weird and look normal, it's nice.  
  
"So, do you remember our honeymoon?" he asks, poking fun at our assignment.  
  
"How could I forget? It was like Viet Cong the whole time."  
  
"The rain was unfortunate." Where is he basing this? "But people do go Hawaii to swim, why shouldn't it rain?"  
  
Ooh, good choice, flyboy. Classic and classy.  
  
"Good point. That one day, the beach was packed, and once it started sprinkling everyone ran for cover."  
  
"Everyone," he smiles.  
  
"Everyone," I repeat vaguely.  
  
"Yeah, but once they'd all gone, it left us free to go skinny dipping."  
  
"Ouch, buddy, bringing out the big guns and bad memories?" Oh, this is too amusing.  
  
"Bad memories? That was the most fun night of the trip!" I can only guess what he's imagining.  
  
"But when we got out, our clothes were missing."  
  
He frowns. "Oh yeah."  
  
"All of them. Both sets."  
  
"Hey, but we did find them."  
  
"In wonderful disarray washed all over the shoreline."  
  
"How was I supposed to know the tide would rise?"  
  
God, we're a little too good at this.  
  
I smile. "That was alright, though."  
  
"Why is that?" He smirks. Oh God, he wants me to say it out loud.  
  
I kiss him on the nose. "Because I got to watch you frantically search the beach nude for our clothes." I wink. He wrinkles his nose in mock resentment. "You should not ask questions with answers you don't like," I tell him. "Aren't you a lawyer?" I add in a whisper. I leave the bar and head for the bathroom.  
  
When I come back, he's gone. I scan the room and see him sitting at a table with another guy. Harm sees me and shrugs. He points to the guy, then his Academy ring.  
  
Of course. He was bound to run into someone he knew.   
  
I sit back at the bar. "Get me another one of these things, please," I say to the bartender as I point to my pina colada.   
  
"Non-alcoholic?" she asks.  
  
I think about it very hard. "Yeah, I guess so." The night's been fun so far, I can't go and get drunk so I can turn evil.  
  
She returns with another. "Thanks," I mumble.  
  
Some random guy comes and sits on my left. I feel him glace at me every so often. Actually, very often. Great, now I have some guy chasing the skirt, right on my tail.   
  
I look over my right shoulder to find Harm. Once we make eye contact, I give him an insistent expression that suggests he wrap it up and bail me out. His eyes widen, telling me he's stuck, too. Dammit.  
  
I turn back to my semi-drink. The man beside me finally looks at my face. I ignore him. I'm good at that.   
  
"Hi there, I'm Chris," he says congenially.   
  
I smile like I've just noticed him. "Hi. Chris..."  
  
"Paget."  
  
"Chris Paget," I repeat. I'm good at that, as well.  
  
"And you are?"  
  
"O'Leary."  
  
"Got a first name?" he asks smilingly.   
  
"Steph." I smile to myself. I've already corrupted my given name.  
  
"So, Steph, are you here alone?"  
  
I give him a smile that could mean either "yes, I'm alone, save me" or "no, I'm not, and he'll kick your ass." Chris is confused, but doesn't inquire further. I finish off my pina colada.  
  
"Let me buy you a drink," he offers.  
  
"A third one of these would be good."  
  
"Third..." he mutters. Ha... he thinks he's getting me drunk. Fat chance anyway, I've got a pretty high tolerance.  
  
He flags down the bartender. "Would you get her another, please?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
When she comes back, she does me an enormous favor. Being a woman herself, she sees the nuisance that lies before me.  
  
"Virgin pina colada," she says with a smile to me.  
  
I can't help but giggle a bit. I see his brain hit the floor when he realizes I'm not drunk.   
  
I see another way to embarrass him. My hand is flat on the bar. I pat it a few times, making it seem like I'm just bored.   
  
He hears clicking and looks at my hand to find the wedding rings. The remains of his cerebellum flop to the ground as he's managed to thoroughly humiliate himself. He hit on a married woman.  
  
So what if I'm not really?  
  
He points to my hand. "Is your husband here?"  
  
I act as though I hadn't been trying to bring the rings to his attention. "Oh. Yes, he is."  
  
Chris looks at the empty seat on my right. "Where is he?"  
  
Is Chris worried? "He met up with an old camp friend," I say bitterly. I almost said Academy, but since we are undercover, I figured I'd give Wyatt a different past.  
  
"Camp?" he asks.  
  
"Yeah," I sigh, "boot camp."  
  
"Oh, is he in the military?"  
  
"Yep, Marines." I couldn't resist.  
  
"Really? My brother's a Marine. What rank is your husband?"  
  
I swallow. "Gunnery sergeant." Inside, I am dying of laughter. I don't know if he even knows the song...  
  
"Sergeant O'Leary?" he asks skeptically. I guess he does.  
  
"I'm serious," I say with a firm expression.  
  
He practically does an about face. Boy, he had no idea what he was getting into when he chose to sit by me.   
  
He clears his throat. "So, do you two have to move a lot?"  
  
"No, he's on permanent assignment here."  
  
"Oh yeah? You live in Norfolk?"  
  
"Yes, we do." I almost tell him on Sullivan Street, but I don't even know if there is one in this city. And that would get pretty suspicious. Since he already recognized Sergeant O'Leary, I might have as well told him about Mama Leoni and Mr. Cacciatore.  
  
Much to the relief of Chris and me, Harm finally comes back and sits down.  
  
"Sorry about that, you know those guys," Harm says.  
  
"Unfortunately, I do. This is my new friend Chris. He hit on me," I shrug.  
  
The poor man turns the shade of Harm's car.  
  
"Oh, it's okay," Harm says amiably. "I don't jump people I've just met," he adds with a slight sneer.  
  
Poor Chris seems utterly distressed and horrified. Harm is extremely tall and, might I add, impressively well-muscled. Chris isn't a wimp, but he is considerably smaller. He's very much afraid.  
  
Ah, what have I done to this poor creature? Very fun things...  
  
Harm sneaks his arm around the small of my back. I tingle. I can tell he's trying to make me uncomfortable.  
  
"So what'd you talk about?" Harm asks.  
  
"Umm, I believe he mentioned that his brother was a Marine, right?"  
  
He nods. "He's a staff sergeant."  
  
Harm nods in approval.  
  
I slide my hand into Harm's back pocket. Ooh, now who's tingling?  
  
Still me, actually, but I've just made it very hard for him to form thoughts. I've turned his brains to mush, much like I have Chris. But Chris is now emotionally scarred.  
  
I can still make it up to him. "Hey," I say, "you see that girl there?"  
  
I point, and he nods. "She's been watching you with great interest for a while."  
  
He smiles. "Excuse me."  
  
Once he leaves, Harm and I burst into laughter. "It was so much fun messing with him," Harm comments.  
  
"Oh, you have no idea the trauma I caused that pitiful soul. I did so much more to him, oh, you would have died."  
  
I refuse to remove my hand from his pocket.   
  
He doesn't mind.  
  
  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
I shamelessly stole the names of DJE's children, his character in "Degree of Guilt," and a few lyrics from Billy Joel's "Movin' Out (Anthony's Song)." None of those are mine either! 


End file.
